


The Bisexual Sods are Reunited

by enby0angel



Series: The Shenanigans of the Bisexual Sods [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Case Fic, Claire Novak & Rosie Watson Friendship, Fluff, For the most part, Gen, Gift, John Watson & Dean Winchester friendship, Kidnapping, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Non-Graphic Violence, Rosie Watson-Holmes - Freeform, SHE'S A WATSON-HOLMES FIGHT ME, birthday gift, character being bait, the long awaited sequel, unnamed fellow kidnapped people, unnamed goons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 01:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16777357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enby0angel/pseuds/enby0angel
Summary: The world is full of wonder and mysteries. Some of these mysteries can be solved and unlocked with time, patience, and knowledge; some mysteries remain a mystery.The one in which John and Dean are strangely reunited, and Rosie is a badass.





	The Bisexual Sods are Reunited

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acme146](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acme146/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU  
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU  
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR ACME  
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
> 
> WOOO HAPPY BIRTHDAY ACME I'M UPSET I ONLY FOUND OUT WHAT YOUR BIRTHDAY WAS LIKE FIVE DAYS AGO BUT HERE, HAVE THIS THING
> 
> It's been over two years but I wrote another one of these dorks! This is also my first fic with Rosie in it, and I like her characterisation in this one. It's my hc that as she gets older she prefers to be called Rosa (or Rose sometimes), and only her fathers are allowed to call her Rosie. Fight me.
> 
> I'm gonna shut up now. I hope you enjoy, and happy birthday again Acme! <3

The world is full of wonder and mysteries. Some of these mysteries can be solved and unlocked with time, patience, and knowledge; some mysteries remain a mystery. Perhaps it is for the best.

A mystery that had been on the back of the minds of two men since they met was, indeed, how they met. It seemed very unlikely that the two, from such different worlds, would have met at a seemingly random bar. They had been trying to solve the mystery for a while. But having not seen each other for a while now, they both began to accept that perhaps this was one of the mysteries that would remain unsolved.

So when John Watson and Dean Winchester met again at another seemingly random place, the mystery jumped back into their lives.

Sherlock Holmes, the world’s greatest Consulting Detective, and Dr John Watson, his doctor, partner and companion, wandered into the Singer Garage one afternoon while on a case. Sherlock had expected it to be just another dim-witted witness that they just _had_ to interrogate in order to get all the information they needed, so he was rather surprised when John recognised the witness.

“John?” Dean asked, surprised.

“Dean,” John greeted him, grinning and holding out a hand.

“How have you been?” Dean asked, returning the easy grin and handshake.

John shrugged. “Good, considering,” he replied. Dean laughed.

Sherlock eyed Dean, his mind whirring with observations. Simple at first, then getting more complicated. _Dean Winchester, 6’1”. Works as a mechanic, likes his job, living happily. Strong, military background or a parent who was in the military._ He flicked his eyes around the room, seeing photographs hanging up on a wall. _Bad family history, two brothers, one sister, none look alike. Adopted sister, half brother, full brother. Boyfriend, not husband, and a daughter._

Sherlock was silent as Dean and John exchanged small talk. Where had they met? _Years before, haven’t seen each other in a long time due to living in different areas. Over ten years since they first met. Most likely at a bar._ Had John ever mentioned him before? _Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester… just after he and John got together, he mentioned getting a nudge to confess his feelings._ Was Dean the nudge? _Most likely, judging by their ease and friendly talk._

Soon, having had enough, Sherlock butted into the conversation and they got on with the case: missing children that had most often been taken while walking home alone from school or other places. Dean had seen one of the children not too long before she was taken while walking home from a restaurant. So far, Dean wasn’t a suspect, but they had to find out everything he knew.

Dean answered al of their questions willingly and as best he could. Only once were they interrupted by a text from his boyfriend, “Cas”, saying that he had to stay behind at work for a while (high school teacher, specialising in English, literature, and humanities subjects such as history and geology, Dean specified) and that their daughter would walk the block to her Dean’s sister Charlie’s house ( _Charlie, red-headed girl in the photo, not biologically related, but he sees her as a sister_ ).

Sherlock finished with his questions and walked around the garage for a while. _Has a daughter, sister, and is in a committed relationship, no motive_. He heard Dean and John continue talking.

“How’s Castiel?” John asked ( _Angel of Thursday_ , Sherlock thought to himself). “Have you two moved in together?”

“Yeah, we have,” Dean replied, grinning. “Cas’s daughter, Claire, was a little iffy at moving in and having another person around the house, but I think she’s good with it now. She became like my own daughter so fast, y’know?”

“I know,” John said. “Sherlock was like that with Rosie, my daughter. How old is Claire?”

“Fifteen, and what a teenager she is. How old is your daughter?”

“Fourteen. She was the nudge that got me to pop the question, actually.” Sherlock smiled a little at that.

“You’re engaged! Congratulations!”

“Thanks.”

Conversation was cut off by Dean’s phone ringing, _Eye of the Tiger_ beginning to play. Dean groaned, “Damn Claire,” he mumbled. “Sorry, it’s Charlie, I gotta take this.” Frowning, he excused himself from the room, going outside to take the call. Sherlock walked over and re-joined John, half focussing on him and half focussing on Dean’s call.

“How long?” he asked.

“Thirteen years,” John supplied. “Rosie was one when I met Dean.”

“Bar?”

“I’m not even going to ask.” Sherlock smiled again.

The smile fell when he realised what was happening in Dean’s conversation. “What?” Dean asked quietly. “But it’s only a one block walk!... Don’t tell me… you think… Oh god, not Claire… Did you see her coming?... I don’t… It’s only one block, how did they…” There was a short silence. Then, “I am going to murder whoever it is.”

John had noticed what was going on now, too, and he and Sherlock looked at each other. _Claire has been taken._

Sherlock looked back over to the photo of Dean, Castiel and Claire. _Blonde, blue eyes, teenager,_ _walking home alone from school_ _._ Exactly their kidnapper’s type.

Dean came rushing back in, clutching his phone so hard he could have broken it in his fist. “Claire’s gone. The bastard took her.”

Sherlock looked to John, only to see him already looking his way. John turned back to Dean. “Good thing we’re here then, mate,” he said.

  


Rosie met them at Charlie’s house. The girl in question was absolutely distraught, and Dean immediately gathered her in her arms. He started shushing her quietly as she sobbed apologies into his chest. John felt for the poor girl, she obviously thought it was her fault.

John immediately gravitated towards Rosie, tucking her under his arm. Where she was getting her height from he had no idea, but she was almost as tall as he was already. Her face was blank, similarly to the expression Sherlock got when he had no idea how to express what he was feeling under specific circumstances. He silently comforted her, and she silently accepted it.

Looking over to Sherlock, he could almost see the gears in his fiance’s brain. Mostly he was silent, thinking, but occasionally he fired off a question to either Dean or Charlie.

And later, of course, Castiel Novak, after he had made a spectacular entrance by opening the door with such force that it hit the wall behind it and striding in with murder in his eyes. This man was definitely far from the shy ‘Cas’ Dean had shown him a photo of all that time ago.

However, the fire in the man’s eyes had drained almost as soon as he saw Dean clutching a shaking Charlie to him, and he swept over to them in an instant.

Both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, Rosie was the first one to come to a conclusion: “Me. I’m the solution.”

Every pair of eyes turned to her. “What do you mean?” Sherlock asked sharply.

Rosie met her stepfather’s eyes with an equally sharp gaze, stepping away from John. “Me. I’m blonde, blue-eyed and school-aged. I’m perfect.”

“No,” John said immediately. “You will not be _bait_ for kidnappers.”

Rosie turned to her. “I’m perfectly willing to be. Besides, how else are you going to find these guys except watch every blonde-blue eyed girl and wait for one to go missing and pray you’re watching the right one at the right time? That’s incredibly unlikely, _too_ unlikely. I’ve run the numbers.”

John looked to Sherlock, and Sherlock looked up to John a second later. John could see the his partner running the pros and cons of a plan like this one. On one hand, Rosie was their daughter, a being they’d sworn to protect at all costs; on the other hand, Rosie had too much of a point to ignore.

“And,” Rosie continued, “I doubt you’ll find another set of parents even remotely willing to do something like this with their daughter. Count yourselves lucky you’re the ones raising me.” She lifted her chin and pushed her shoulders back, like John himself did when he felt undermined.

He was _so_ damn proud of his daughter.

“John?” Sherlock asked quietly. He didn’t have to say any more.

After a moment, John nodded slowly. “We need to control everything,” he said. “Nothing can be left up to chance.”

Sherlock nodded, and Rosie smiled slightly. “Let’s get started, then.”

  


“Oh you bastard!”

Claire looked up at the shriek, but not because that was an uncommon occurrence in this place, but because it was a British shriek instead of an American one. She managed to gather enough strength to pull herself up to the bars of her cell, seeing that many other girls had done the same when she got there.

It had been four days, the exact length of time between every kidnapping. The big guy that had taken her – easily over six feet, tattooed, scary beyond all reason – was dragging along another poor soul through the cellar. She was shorter and probably younger than she was, and she was being pulled along by her short hair, held up high enough that her toes barely skimmed the ground.

“Let me go! Let! Me! _Go!_ ”

She was putting up a hell of a fight for a small girl. Claire wished she would stop; the more they fought, the more pain they’d be in later – Claire had found that out the hard way, having a father who knew martial arts tended to rub off on her. Besides, she’d always been told she had her uncle’s spirit (the situation at hand determined whether they were talking about Gabriel or Lucifer at the time).

The girl was thrown into the cell next to Claire’s so hard Claire would swear she did an arc in the air before landing on the ground. She launched herself at the cage door, only to crash against it as it shut in her face. She swore colourfully at him, only getting a dirty and self-satisfied grin in return.

She rattled the cage doors for a few minutes as the asshole walked awake, but eventually gave up and turned around collapsing onto the small mattress in the corner. If it was anything like Claire’s, it wasn’t worth a damn anyway.

“How long have you been here?” the girl asked, and Claire realised she was talking to her.

After a short hesitation she replied honestly, “I don’t know. There’s no windows down here.”

“Four days,” the girl said quietly. “You’ve been down here four days. The first girl reported has been missing for twenty days. I’m the fifth one down here, correct?” Her head was down and her hands were clutching at her hair, but her voice was steady.

“That’s right,” Claire said carefully. “Who are you?”

The girl looked up at her, her eyes glinting. “Rosa,” she introduced herself. “My name is Rosa. And you’re Claire.” She said it as a statement, not a question. Claire nodded, and Rosa smiled at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Claire. I know your parents.”

“Dad and Dean?” Claire’s inhibitions flew out the window, and she scrambled to the bars that separated her from Rosa. “You know them? Are they okay?”

“They’re fine,” Rosa assured her quietly, “but they miss you. So does your aunt, Charlie. Your uncles Sam and Gabriel arrived at their house two days ago, Adam and Alfie yesterday, and Michael and Lucifer are expected to be there tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Claire breathed. “Thank you.”

Rosa grinned at her. “We’ll be out of here soon. Promise.”

Claire narrowed her eyes at the girl. “How can you promise that?”

The grin only got wider. “I know people,” she said simply, and hen lay back on her shitty mattress to wait. For what, Claire didn’t know, but she hoped she’d find out soon.

  


_Well,_ Rosa thought to herself as she and Clare were tied to chairs back-to-back, _this is certainly an interesting way to spend the afternoon._

It was their fault in a way, because Claire could not resist asking about her family and Rosa could not resist asking. She was _sure_ that she had scanned the room thoroughly and not spotted any bugs or cameras, but perhaps there was one somewhere. Sherlock Holmes she was not quite yet, and of course she still had a lot to learn. Rosamund Mary Watson-Holmes she was, however, and she had certainly inherited the spite and wit of the good doctor.

“These ropes are a bit tight,” she commented, flexing her wrists. “I am an Englishwoman, you know, you could stand to be a little more polite.”

There was a sharp sting on her cheek as she was smacked so hard her chair may have been knocked over if not for Claire on the other side. She managed to maintain her dignity as she tossed her hair back over her shoulder to face her assailant once more.

Was that…? Ah yes, it was.

Five…

Four…

Three…

Two…

One…

_Bang!_

The room was suddenly filled with shouting, crashing and gunshots as her fathers led the storm into the cellar. She blinked once and her dad was kneeling in front of her, pulling the ropes away from her skin.

“Rosie,” he gasped, cupping her face once he’d finished, “Rosie, are you alright?”

Rosa smiled, leaning into him. “Yes, Dad,” she replied, “I’m fine.”

“Thank god.” Her dad ran his hand through her hair then pulled away, gently guiding her to her feet.

Rosa looked around to see her papa untying Claire’s ropes, looking her up and down for any injuries. “Miss Novak, are you alright?” he asked sharply, and Claire nodded weakly.

Perhaps some may have been put off that their papa asked after someone else’s wellbeing before their own, but it was her papa. He knew that her dad was looking after her, so he looked after someone else instead. It made sense.

Her papa looked up at her. “Are you alright, Rose?” he asked. His face may have betrayed no emotion, but he knew how to read his eyes. He was worried, _so_ worried for her, and she loved him.

“Yes, papa,” she smiled at him. “I’m alright. It’s almost a shame you came when you did, actually – Claire and I were just getting acquainted with each other.”

Relief flooded her papa’s face and Claire managed a dry chuckle.

Her papa looked around the room. “Did you figure out what they wanted?” he asked Rosa absently.

Rosa’s heart sunk. “Wives,” she replied quietly. “They wanted wives. It’s why they kept everyone alive, so they could torture them all into being perfect, submissive wives.”

She was engulfed into her dad’s arms, and she returned it happily. Shortly after she moved away and went over to hug Claire. After making a surprised noise and a slight hesitation, she returned the hug. “Thanks for keeping your promise,” she mumbled.

“Thank you for believing me,” Rosa replied.

It’s over.

  


Seeing the girls reunited with their families was always a lovely sight to see, and Rosa leaned into the arms that her fathers wrapped around her.

Dean and Castiel’s expressions went from worried and murderous to that of relief and pure joy as they swept Claire into their arms. Claire’s entire family was there, and there were tears of joy shed from everyone (even a few of those she could tell weren’t prone to crying often).

Rosa and her fathers had to return home, but she and Claire exchanged another hug, phone numbers and a promise to keep in touch.

Not too long after the incident, Rosa relayed the news that Dean and Castiel had gotten engaged themselves to a grinning doctor, who had been invited to the wedding along with Sherlock and Rosa herself.

Claire and her family were, of course, invited to John and Sherlock’s own wedding, which was enjoyed as much as it was complained about (mainly because it had been such a long time coming).

It seems that finding friends in the oddest places under the oddest circumstances was a hereditary occurrence, from the Watson-Holmes’ to the Winchester-Novaks’.

None of them would have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments and kudos are forever loved and treasured <3


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